


Pumpkin Head

by basketcasewrites



Series: Fictober 2018 [6]
Category: Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Haunted Houses, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-08
Updated: 2018-10-08
Packaged: 2019-07-28 05:24:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16235048
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/basketcasewrites/pseuds/basketcasewrites
Summary: "You couldn't spend a whole night in there," Flash mocks, a rough hand shoving at Peter's shoulder."It's just a house." Peter shrugs.(prompts 7 & 8 of myfictober prompts list: mansion & pumpkins)





	Pumpkin Head

The house at the end of the street is haunted, so they say.

Its wall of dark clouds a perpetual shroud; a blanket of odourless, thick grey and black, like the smoke from a factory.

"You couldn't spend a whole night in there," Flash mocks, a rough hand shoving at Peter's shoulder.

"It's just a house." Peter shrugs him off.

"Uh," Ned makes to correct, "It's actually a mansion."

A roll of disinterested eyes, Flash lets his tone fall wickedly low. "The Pumpkin Man will get you before the night is done."

✴️

A history of stories surround the mansion. Myth passed down through generations and burying the truth.

He clutches his sleeping bag to his chest. Cold air touches against his skin, a chill shoots up his spine and he shivers with it.  
Heavy air settles around him and Ned. Sits and sinks into his lungs.

Ned grabs at Peter's arm. " _Dude_ ," he exclaims. Uncontained excitement in his voice, he points at a second storey window. "Did you see that?"

Peter jerks his head. The movement quick enough to catch a disappearing glimpse of yellow light, a fading dash of orange.

"What?" Peter asks on the end of a swallow. His throat dry and scratchy, suddenly sore. "Is it the Pumpkin Man?"

The words fly from his mouth. And, immediately, Peter feels like the biggest fool. The Pumpkin Man is as really as Santa or the Tooth Fairy.

Beside him, quickly searching through his pockets, Ned dips his head in a series of short nods. "It totally was," Ned agrees. He pulls out his phone, waves it lamely in the air in front of them. "Gotta be ready next time."

"So... If Pumpkin Man happens to be real," Peter begins slowly, his brow a sweet furrow, "You're gonna stop and take a picture, instead of run?"

"Parker, c'mon. This is our moment to join the likes of the greats."

"Like _who_ exactly?"

"Those dudes who got pictures of Bigfoot. Uh, that person who got a picture of Nessie," Ned counts out on his fingers. "All those photos of Mothman."

Peter scoffs. "You don't even know their names."

"I do. I'm just too excited to remember." He laughs, a gentle and easy exhale of air, at Peter's narrowed eyes and the thin line of his mouth. A movement of his elbow to gently nudge Peter, Ned said, "What? I'm spending a night with my boyfriend. In a dusty old mansion. That may or may not be housing a ghost."

"Pumpkin Man's probably not a ghost." He raises his shoulders in a slight shrug.

The mansion _is_ old and dusty. It looms over them and casts a shadow over everything in its large courtyard. Cobwebs hang from walls, accompany the mansion's layer of dust.

A wind roars past. It screams in Peter's ears and rattles the iron wrought gate.

"If you're scared... we can go," Ned offers. "We can sneak out the back and go to my house. Flash won't know."

He has been staring at Peter— watching Peter the whole time Peter has been craning his neck, lost in his mind. He meets the Ned's gaze, worried and not trying to hide it.

Ned offers. But he wants to stay, Peter can tell. For more than Flash and his petty dares, Ned just wants to spend the night in the same place as the town's most infamous ghost.

"I've been to space camp, Ned," Peter says, a crackle of dead leaves as he strides up the rickety stairs, "I don't get scared."

°

Each movement prompts a creak— ancient floorboards quivering under their steps.

A draught blows through every room of the huge house.

"It's cold in here," Peter says. Arms crossed over his chest, his slight hands rub at his upper-arms and he throws Ned a sly look out from the corner of his eye.

Candles and lamps surround them, flood a small circle with light.  
Ned hunches over a small metal bowl, filled with dry leaves and twigs Peter had scavenged from his backyard.

"I'm lighting the fire," he absently throws. "Your sleeping bag should be warm enough."

"Not really feeling like it." He pulls his sweater tight.

"Oh sure," Ned says, he points over his shoulder to the backpack leaning against the wall, "I brought some extra sweaters."

The fire bursts to life and Ned's cheer echoes in the large, almost empty living room.

An exaggerated exhale of breath, pulled from the depths of his lungs, and Peter's arms drop to his sides. He toes at Ned's sweatpants-covered leg. "I meant," and he paused to sigh again, "that we should cuddle, you doof."

Ned's bout of laughter pulls one from Peter. It matches with the sounds of the house, joins with its creaks and screeches. And the mansion doesn't seem that terrifying anymore.

They join their sleeping bags together. Curl up underneath the bags and around each other; bodies fitting together seamlessly.

Peter lays his head on Ned's chest, nestles into the other boy's side. His ear to Ned's chest, Peter listens to the steady beat of his heart. Matches each breath so that their inhales are the same, their exhales are the same.

°

"Why d'you think he only comes out during October?" Ned asks. He glances at his watch, shows the time to Peter without any prompt.

Only two hours have passed. Twelve more to go.

"The Pumpkin Man isn't real, Ned," Peter murmurs.

His eyes slip close for a second. In this blanket of warmth which envelopes him, he could fall asleep without difficulty.

There again the draught, ever present in the house, inches over him. Peter opens his eyes. He catches a shadowy and orange-lit figure move past the empty doorway.

A shriek, loud and uncontainable, falls from his mouth.

He jumps and pulls away from Ned's firm hold, stumbles from the sleeping bag onto dust and dirt-covered floors.

"What?" Ned shoots up in place, looks around the room and questions. " _What!?_ "

"It's—" Words escape him. They strangle and tumble without any coherency. "I saw him."

"Peter, calm down." Ned pushes away the sleeping bag and stands, places a hand Peter's hunched back. "What's happened?"

He shakes his head. Slips on his shoes. "I saw it, Ned. _Him._ Whatever. The Pumpkin Man."

A creak of the floorboards seem to emphasize Peter's point.

"He doesn't exist," Ned assured him. "Peter, calm down. He doesn't really exist."

"You said he did. You saw him earlier. I just saw him."

Another passing shadow. Another sight of orange that Peter _knows_ is the ghosts pumpkin head. He lets out a second loud scream, this time he turns Ned and points into the hallway.

As clear as day, a black-clothed creature stalks from a room and down the passage. Each step agonizingly slow, a giant-sized pumpkin perched on its head, it headed for the living room.

"Oh my God, he exists." Ned halts, seems to freeze. "Oh my God, Peter, he exists! Where's my phone?"

"Can you forget about that already— Please—"

A short bark of laughter cuts Peter short. It rings out dry and edged with humour; easily drowns out the quick click from Ned's phone as he snaps a picture.

"Are we gonna die?" Ned asks. "Oh, man, are we gonna die?"

"You'll die—" Pumpkin Head speaks. And the voice is so familiar it stills Peter where he stands. "— But not because of me. All this fire is really dangerous."

"MJ?" Peter calls, his backpack falling to the ground with a thud. "MJ, is that you?"

Black-gloved hands reach to pull the pumpkin off. Peter narrows his eyes at the grinning face revealed, the mirth-filled eyes.

Holding the head to her side— the racing of his heart beginning to lessen now, Peter can see that it is plastic, fading and cracked in places— and casts a steady look over Peter and Ned.

"You should've seen your faces," MJ says, holding in a laugh.

"What the hell, MJ?" Ned shakes his head. "I almost had _photographic evidence_."

Peter speaks up then. "Is this what you do? Dress up like the Pumpkin Man and walk around this place?"

Her shoulders raise in a half-hearted shrug. She says, "Sometimes."

"That's... That's not helpful," Peter's words a loud utterance. "That's terrifying. Maybe I have a weak heart, you don't know. You could've killed me."

"But you don't have a weak heart. And I didn't kill you."

°

Her knees drawn to her chest, MJ sits atop the sleeping bag she dragged down from the second floor.

"So, what?" Peter begins. "You live here."

"I keep a room upstairs... For October purposes," MJ explains and accepts a cookie from the small tin offered to her. "I like being the town's very own demonic presence."

Around a mouthful of chocolate chip cookie of his own, Peter looks at MJ and speaks. "Me and Ned are spending the night in here. It'd be fun if we can all spend the night together."

MJ shrugs. "You losers probably need my company."

 

**Author's Note:**

> This turned out so much better in my head... But still, I love it and will share it.
> 
> °
> 
> If you want to see how I procrastinate, shoot me some asks or just hang out, you can find me on [Tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/shuriidyke)

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Pumpkin Head [Podfic]](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16398023) by [MidnightMew](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MidnightMew/pseuds/MidnightMew)




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